Chapter 177: Look, A’wu
Watching Lan Wu weep with pear blossom-like tears, looking exceptionally pitiable, Yizhen ordered someone to fetch water and helped her into the hall.
There were palace attendants all around outside—it would be embarrassing if they saw her like this.
Lan Wu, unsteady on her feet, was supported into the main hall.
She kept saying how pitiful Chu Mingheng was.
Hearing this, Yizhen couldn’t help but mutter to herself, “He’s not pitiful at all. I think you’re the foolish one—you’re the one to be pitied.”
Lan Wu paused for a moment upon hearing this, then nodded in agreement. “Yes, I’m pitiful too… I’m also very pitiful…”
Yizhen didn’t understand what she was saying. Afraid she would keep crying, she quickly called someone over to talk to her. Turning back, she glanced at the wine set on the round table outside the hall.
Had Lan Wu only drunk two cups?
With such a low tolerance for alcohol, no wonder her brother forbade her from drinking.
But now that she had drunk and cried it out, she probably wouldn’t be unhappy when she woke up tomorrow, right?
She was truly clever to have thought of such a good way to drown her sorrows in wine.
Yizhen waved her hand, signaling the palace maids to properly attend to Lan Wu’s washing and help her to bed, then turned and left the hall.
That night, Lan Wu fell asleep in bed and once again entered a dream.
In the past, whenever she entered a dream, Chu Mingheng would be by her side, never too far away. But this time, she didn’t see him.
Lan Wu searched twice, front and back, but couldn’t find him in Taichen Palace.
The palace maids and eunuchs passing by were like silent mutes—not a single voice could be heard speaking in the entire hall.
If Chu Mingheng wasn’t in Taichen Palace, where was he?
Lan Wu ran out of the hall and headed in the direction of Yilan Hall.
As she crossed the palace path, her footsteps suddenly halted.
Several eunuchs carrying items were whispering, their words mocking and exaggerated. In their conversation, they were talking about Chu Mingheng.
“Could His Majesty have gone mad? I heard from the palace attendants on duty that he often wanders around the palace in the middle of the night, disheveled and barefoot…”
“It’s terrifying.”
“Also, the doors of Yilan Hall have always been closed, but someone saw a woman’s figure moving inside at night. Isn’t that strange!”
Another eunuch scoffed upon hearing this, completely disbelieving. “You just said the doors of Yilan Hall are always closed, so how could anyone see a woman inside? That’s contradictory.”
“In my opinion, it must be those palace maids and eunuchs making things up. You should say less—if this spreads, you might lose your life.”
Hearing this warning, the eunuch shrank back, glanced up at the setting sun, shivered, and lowered his voice even further. “It’s been almost five years since that consort passed away. How can His Majesty still not let go?”
“I heard she died unjustly. Who knows if her vengeful spirit might return…”
“You’re still talking—do you really not value your life?”
Their voices gradually faded away.
Lan Wu’s legs felt weak—almost five years? Had this dream already jumped to nearly five years later?
Thinking of something, she continued running forward, reaching Yilan Hall just before sunset.
As expected, not a single palace attendant could be seen inside Yilan Hall, but the furnishings and decorations around showed little change. There wasn’t even a speck of dust to be seen. Though the place lacked human presence, it felt as if the hall’s mistress had merely stepped out and would return soon.
Lan Wu saw that the hall’s doors were open. Recalling the words of the two eunuchs earlier, she stepped into the hall.
No one was in the outer hall, but as she walked behind the screen into the Inner Palace, she heard a faint sound—like the clatter of overturned hairpins or jewelry.
Without hesitation, she rounded the screen and finally saw the person before her.
He was turned slightly away from her, long hair cascading down to cover half his face. The strands appeared somewhat grayish-white. At that moment, he was lifting his hands to arrange his hair into a bun, as if unaccustomed and unpracticed.
But those hands were familiar to Lan Wu.
This person… was she—or rather, he—Chu Mingheng?
Lan Wu’s feet felt as if cast in lead, her legs stiff and immovable. She stared in stunned disbelief as Chu Mingheng used a comb to smooth his own hair, those same hands deftly twisting it into a woman’s chignon.
He still hadn’t managed it perfectly—the bun was loose and untidy—but Lan Wu could now see his face clearly.
Five years had passed, and at first glance, his appearance seemed largely unchanged. Yet upon closer inspection, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes were visible. His gaze held weariness and indifference, like a stagnant pool of water, utterly devoid of ripples.
Lan Wu watched as he selected jewelry from the dressing table, meticulously polishing each golden hairpin before placing them into his hair.
Suddenly, she understood. That time when Chu Mingheng had styled her hair, his movements had seemed unnaturally practiced, as if rehearsed hundreds or thousands of times. When she had asked, he had merely brushed it off with a casual remark.
So this was how he had practiced…
Lan Wu couldn’t help but take a sharp breath. As she inhaled, her vision blurred, and an unfamiliar pain seized her entire heart, making even her breathing hitch with sobs.
Unable to stand, she stumbled forward, her voice hoarse as she called out, “Your Majesty… Your Majesty…”
Chu Mingheng could not hear her, nor could he see her at all.
But when Lan Wu was just a step away, she saw him suddenly turn his head toward her direction and smile gently, saying, “A-Wu, look at the hair I’ve styled for you. Is it beautiful?”
Lan Wu froze, her voice abruptly cut off. Staring dumbfounded at Chu Mingheng, she thought he had seen her and rushed forward, only to pass through his body like a wisp of wind.
She fell to the ground, realizing something, and turned to look behind her.
Chu Mingheng was still gazing in the same direction, reaching out to stroke the empty air. He then took out a golden hairpin, gesturing and positioning it in the void, talking to himself, “Do you like this hairpin?”
“Look, it’s a hibiscus flower. A-Wu suits hibiscus best…”
After saying this, he paused, then quickly added with a hint of urgency, “I misspoke. What I meant was, A-Wu suits all flowers. Any flower would look beautiful on you… Don’t be upset, A-Wu. Come, let me put it on for you—”
With that, he placed the golden hairpin in a certain direction in the empty air and released it with a smile in his eyes.
The hairpin fell like a bird with broken wings, landing on the ground with a crisp clatter. In the desolate silence of the hall, the sound was jarringly abrupt, like a heavy hammer shattering Chu Mingheng’s delusional fantasy.
Lan Wu saw Chu Mingheng’s body tremble slightly. He lowered his head, not uttering a word, as if he had aged several years in an instant, his entire being filled with uncertainty.
Still not looking up, he seemed to regain clarity. He began tearing at the bun in his hair, heedless of whether he pulled strands loose, removing all the golden hairpins one by one. In silence and frenzy, he tugged at his own hair.
Lan Wu suddenly rushed forward, reaching out to stop him from harming himself, but she couldn’t touch him at all. Helplessly, she could only watch as he gradually calmed down.